


Steve Rogers Escort Service

by BitterTongue



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 05:38:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17975468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BitterTongue/pseuds/BitterTongue
Summary: Steve Rogers takes you home





	Steve Rogers Escort Service

Steve was planning on having a quiet night in. He had already had his dinner of baked chicken and broccoli. He had also already finished washing dishes and taking his trash to the shute. Steve had just settled onto his couch with the remote poised to change the channel when you called.  
The ringtone was loud and shrill, but it was the only way Steve could recognize an incoming call or text. The noise echoed out of his bedroom where he had left the phone to charge and the phone was on its fifth ring when he plucked it from the charger. Your name displayed on the screen brought a smile to his face. It had been a while since he heard from you.  
“Steve Rogers Escort Service.” He answered in a sing song voice.   
What he got in return was a toneless “Hey.”  
Steve's strong brow furrowed in concern and he pressed the phone harder against his ear even though he had learned doing so wouldn't allow him to hear anything more.  
“I would like to employ your services tonight Cap, if you don't mind.”  
“Of course I don't,” Steve rushed to say, already walking to his closet and pulling a sweater from the hanger.   
“Where are you?”  
You gave him an address and he promised to be there as soon as he could. Steve hung up just before locking his front door and jogging down the hall. Taking the stairs two at a time he reached the bottom floor within minutes and headed south.  
The air was cool but coupled with the occasional breeze it was chilly enough to remind Steve that autumn was slowly killing the summer warmth. He hadn't seen you all summer, two or three months had passed since you called upon him and despite your solemn mood he was happy to be seeing you.   
There were a lot of people on the sidewalk, it being only nine o'clock on a Friday night. Steve got a few looks, merely glances really, but if anyone recognized Captain America it was after he was lost in the crowd or around the corner. This was not a night he wanted to be stopped.  
As he turned onto the street you provided him earlier on the phone he spotted you easily. The street was residential and not as densely populated as the commercial streets he had taken to get here. You sat hunched and small looking on the bottom step of an apartment building, your head in your hands. A small bag sat at your feet and a backpack was resting beside you. Since you hadn't seemed to notice him Steve picked up the pace to a light jog, now that he had seen you he couldn't pretend to be patient enough to walk at a leisurely pace. The sound of his shoes against pavement didn't rouse you from your staring contest with your shoes, so when Steve stopped in front of you he suddenly went from excited to awkward.  
“Hey, you okay?”  
You looked up at him and felt the tears well in your eyes. The salty solution stung and the vision of Steve, big and blind and muscular and sweet, swam like a mirage as the tears overwhelmed your vision. Your mouth twisted into a frown and you shook your head know, the movement causing the first tear to fall. Steve fell into a crouch, one hand came to rest on your knee while the other stayed on his own.   
“Hey, talk to me sweetheart.”  
His thumb brushed across your kneecap and the tears fell harder. Your throat was tight with sorrow but you managed to let out a strangled response.  
“Can we start walking first?”  
Steve smiled softly and picked up the bag between your feet. Coming to stand he threw the bag over his shoulder and held a hand out to you.  
“Steve Rogers Escort Service. Where can I take you?”  
You smiled and took his hand, letting him hoist you up with one strong arm. The motion was smooth and quick and left you a little bit dizzy. You reached down to grab your backpack from the steps but Steve was faster. He put on your backpack, looking comical with the straps staining to wrap around his large shoulders. He held his free elbow out to you and you wrapped your own arm around it. Choosing no particular direction you and Steve began your walk.  
Steve was glad the two of you were walking away from the nightlife, it gave you the freedom to talk and listen without interruption or cautiousness with words. That being said the walk so far was silent. Steve's tongue itched to say something, but he didn't know what to say. You had stopped crying, only a few tears had fallen and while you had regained your composure you were still not ready to talk. You kind of hoped Steve would start the conversation.  
“So, what's in the bags?”  
The tears came back, quicker and heavier this time. You took a deep breath and looked at your two bags dejectedly.  
“Everything I own. My apartment was broken into today.”  
Steve stopped suddenly, turning you to face him and taking your face in his hands. He searched your face and body but you shook your head and pushed his hands away. Only after they were gone did you miss the feel of them on your skin.  
“I wasn't home.”  
Grabbing Steve's arm again you forced him to keep walking as you told him the story. You told him how you came home to an unlocked apartment, how you opened the door to see your living room bare. You cried harder as you told him they had even taken your college diploma, your first cat's collar, and your grandmother's cookbook. All they had left you with were some mismatched clothes and toiletries, which you had stored in your oversized purse and workout bag, things you had on you when you had left the house that morning. You had gone from holding onto Steve's arm to being pressed into the super soldiers firm side body, his arm around your shoulder and fingers gently stroking down your shirt sleeve. He listened intently, humming in agreement or empathy when it was needed and making all the right facial expressions to let you know he was listening.   
“Where are you staying tonight?” Steve asked a few minutes after you had finished your story.   
You bit your lip and let your head fall back, a stifled groan escaping your throat.  
“I have no idea. I called the police and then you.”  
Steve squeezed you into his side and beamed. His cheeks were warm against the cool breeze. You had called him before anyone else after the authorities. And you hadn't called Captain America, you had called Steve Rogers.  
“No boyfriend to call?” Steve found himself asking.  
You shook your head, “Not anymore. Broke up last month. I'm sorry I haven't called in a while. It's hard to tell someone your dating that Captain America is your occasional escort, especially with the modern implementation.”  
You both chuckled, remembering your first meeting. How was Steve supposed to know the meaning of escort had changed since the 40s? When he was young being an escort meant being a gentleman and walking a gal home so she wasn't alone, how was he supposed to know what had morphed into seventy years later? Luckily Steve's Escort Service had only one customer, too bad it was someone he liked in a more than gentlemanly walk home way.  
“Any friends you can stay with?”  
You shrugged and looked at your phone, more than two thirds of your battery was gone and your charger was stolen along with everything else. It was almost eleven and you didn't want to call any of your friends so late and burden them with your predicament.  
“I'll just find a cheap hotel to stay in.”  
Steve was already vehemently disagreeing with your idea.  
“You can come home with me. You shouldn't pay for a hotel or be alone tonight.”  
You elbowed Steve in the ribs, your elbow probably hurt more than his hard muscles from the jab.   
“Steve Rogers are you rebranding your escort service to an escort service?”  
Steve's blue eyes met yours, firm and serious, but the corners of his lips quirked upward. You raised your eyebrows suggestively causing Steve to let our an airy laugh and looked away suddenly. You hoped he was blushing, that you had made a superhero like him turn all bashful would be a solid boost to your ego, especially after the day you had.   
“Alright, take me home.”  
-  
You didn't know what you expected. Up until the walk up to Steve's apartment you had assumed he lived in the Avengers Tower or with an Avenger or two, but no he lived alone in an apartment only seventeen blocks from you. The space was dark bringing no light to the home until Steve flicked on a soft overhead bulb. The space was modest and minimalist, the furniture and walls a complimentary shade of brown and navy blue. You toed off your shoes as Steve disappeared with your bags into a room on the left. You stood awkwardly in the small entryway, the chill in your bones slowly wearing off. The light workout jacket you had in your gym bag didn't do much to block the cold blasts of air that had picked up and transformed into a light rain during the last block and a half. Steve emerged from the room looking rushed.  
“I left some pajamas out on the bed for you. I tried to find something that would fit you but I don't know what..you...wear to bed?”  
Steve trailed off, cheeks flushed and feet pivoting like he was ready to turn back into the room and lock the door. You were tempted to tease him, maybe even flirt a little bit, but Steve was opening his home to you and your mother taught you to be a thankful and polite quest.   
“I think I'll get a shower.”  
“Great, great yeah.” Steve clapped his hands together and the noise echoed off the walls.  
“I'll get you set up.”  
He disappeared back into the room and you followed this time. The bedroom was dark but the bathroom light was on, in the light from the hall and bathroom you could make out a bed with dark sheets and across from it a dresser covered in framed photographs. You heard Steve fiddling with the faucets and heard what sounded like a shampoo bottle falling.   
“Shit.”  
“Didn't know you swore.” You said loudly so he could hear you over the rushing water. Steve poked his head out of the bathroom, smile bashful and eyes apologetic.  
“I'm sorry. It's not polite to do in front of a lady.”  
“Do you see a fuckin lady anywhere around here?” You joked.   
Steve's slacked jaw made you giggle and for a long moment he watched you before his attention was taken by the running water.   
“It's hot now.”  
You thanked Steve as he closed the door behind him, leaving you to yourself. You took a nice long shower, the obligation to leave the spray in a timely manner was kicked out of Steve's seventh story window when his hot water didn't run out after fifteen minutes like yours did. You lathered his soap onto your body and his shampoo into your hair before drying off on his towel and slipping into his pajamas. This was the closest you would ever be to being Captain America, and it smelled amazing.  
You opened the bedroom door and a waft of cool air collided with the steamy air from your shower. You breathed it in deeply, catching a whiff of the various soaps you had used. Walking away from the front door you spotted Steve's arm over the arm of the couch and judging by the feet dangling from the other end he was settled in pretty deep. You walked around the couch and for a moment caught Steve reclining back on a pillow before he was scrambling up to stand before you.   
“Is this for me?”  
You pointed to the sheets and pillow set up on the leather couch cushions. Steve shook his head and sat down in the middle of the couch as if you would try to claim the makeshift bed before he could.  
“Take the bed, it's more comfortable.”  
“I can't do that-”  
“You're my guest I insist.”  
“We could share it.”  
While a curse word had left Steve speechless the offer to share his bed had him rambling words and sounds that were unintelligible. You wished you could rewind time and never mention it. Sure you had joked about the Steve Rogers escort service, sure you had spent many late nights walking from one location to another side by side, shoulders bumping and fingers brushing, sure he had invited you into his home, but that didn't mean he wanted you in his bed with him. The rejection, as incomprehensible as it was, had pushed your ego down the seven flights of stairs and seventeen blocks you had traversed to get here. “I'm sorry. Thank you for your generosity. Goodnight.”   
You practically sprinted back to Steve's room, closing the door with more force than you intended. The room was still warm with leftover shower humidity. The heat did nothing to stop you from crawling under the covers and pulling the blanket over your head in embarrassment, becoming a ball of shame. Stretching a hand out blindly you grasped a pillow and pulled it under with you screaming into it and taking a big breath, though you wished you hadn't. The pillow was saturated with Steve. It was a smell you had loved only minutes ago but now made you nauseous, so heavily associated with the night you were officially rejected by Steve Rogers.   
You didn't know how you had even reached the point of believing Steve was possibly interested in you. You hadn't even realized you had wanted more than a friendship with him until now and as quickly as you admitted you wanted something you knew you wouldn't get it.   
A gentle but solid knock against the door pulled you from your cocoon. You walked gingerly to the bedroom door, hand hovering over the knob before you sighed heavily and moved your hand to the light switch, turning it off. You ran back under the covers to lick your wounds.  
Steve wanted to knock again, wanted to say the words he was almost positive he could now articulate. He had flubbed big time, the brazen statement so unforeseen his brain short circuited. He wouldn't have known what to say even if he was prepared for your offer. ‘Sure I'd love to sleep with you?’ Or ‘It's inappropriate, not because I don't like you or find you attractive, because you are, it's actually because I find you attractive that we shouldn't do this.’ Or would he have been honest and say, “Intimacy scares me and I'll lost the only woman I've ever loved to old age while I was frozen for decades.’ In the end Steve dropped his fist and walked away.   
You glanced at the alarm clock o. the bedside table and groaned. You were exhausted, your day had been so taxing, yet you couldn't fall asleep for more than a few minutes. Thoughts of Steve prodded you back into consciousness insistently and they ranged anywhere from sneaking out in the dead of night and never speaking to him again to waking him up and apologizing to waking up, not apologizing, and kissing him senseless. Either way all of these options require you to leave the room and you figured you would start there and figure out the rest as you went. Swinging your legs over the bed you padded to the door and pulled it open slowly, silently.  
The entire apartment was blanketed in darkness forcing you to drag your fingers along the walls so you wouldn't bump into anything, your brief glance around a few hours ago was all you had to go on, but you bounced off a wall you could have sworn wasn't there before, and now the wall was grabbing your waist.   
“Oh,” You squeaked, palms resting back on the wall of firm muscle, “Steve?”  
“What are you doing up? Is everything okay?”  
His concern caused your throat to tighten. You felt foolish for thinking anything about Steve's selfless nature would change because of what you had said. You shook your head before realizing he probably couldn't see it.  
“Yeah, yeah. Can you point me back to bed? I'm a little lost.”  
Steve turned you by your shoulders and as a two man conga line you made your way back into the bedroom. Steve's hands didn't leave you, but you could hear the door shut with a solid thud. Your knees met the edge of the mattress and you crawled under the covers. After settling in you felt the bed dip next to you and, even unseen, you spatial awareness told you Steve's face was a hair away from yours.  
“Does the offer still stand?”  
You nodded, yet again forgetting Steve couldn't see you in the dark.  
“Yes.”  
Your voice was so quiet it barely existed but Steve heard it. Fingers danced on your cheeks, blindly feeling in ten different directions. A pointer finger came dangerously close to your eye and a pinky definitely dug into your ear, but his thumbs found their mark on your lips, running back and forth across the sensitive flesh.  
No words needed to be exchanged, both of you in the same page with what came next; kissing, lots and lots of kissing. Your mouthed moved in sync, opening and closing, tongues meeting and parting, teeth biting and tugging. You pushed Steve's shoulders to the mattress, more a willingness on his part than any testament to your strength, and straddled his hips.  
“Fuck.”  
The soft moan of the word paired with the right grip to your backside sent a wave of heat down your body. It was the heat of intention, the heat that told you to stop now or this would go all the way. You took a deep breath.  
“I thought you didn't curse in front of a lady?”  
Moving so fast you head spun with the sudden change in orientation you almost missed Steve's response as he pressed you into the mattress, hips flush between your open thighs.  
I'm thinking of rebranding.” Steve mused, ignoring your comment. You held your breath until it escaped as a mean, feeling Steve's teeth against the delicate skin of your neck.   
“Steve Rogers escort, lodging, and kissing service.”  
“As your only customer I approve.”  
Steve pulled away from your neck and a moment later you heard a gentle thud come from the floor next to the bed. Your fingers brushed against a bare hip bone before Steve's hands were on the hem of your own shirt.  
“Let me show you some other services I was thinking of adding. If you want?”  
Yes, you do want. You want very much.


End file.
